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REVELATION    BY  FIRE 


SERMON 


J 


PREACHED  IN  WORCESTER,  AUG.  17,  1862, 


THE  SUNDAY  AFTER  THE 


BURIAL  or  MR.  WILLIAM  HUDSON, 


A  PRIVATE  IX  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  REGIMENT  OF 
MASSACHUSETTS  VOLUNTEERS. 


BY    ALONZO  HILL. 


BOSTON: 

PRESS  OF  JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON, 
No.  0,  Water  Street. 

1862. 


REVELATION 


BY  FIRE: 


A 

SERMON 


PREACHED  IN  WORCESTER,  AUG.  17,  1862, 

THE  SUNDAY  AFTER  THE 

BrPJAL  OF  MR.  WILLIAM  HUDSON, 

A  PRIVATE  IX  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  REGIMENT  OF 
MASSACHUSETTS  VOLUNTEERS. 


BY    ALONZO  HILL. 


BOSTON: 

PRESS  OF  JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON, 
No.  5,  Water  Street. 

1862. 


[ 

Digitized  by 

the  Internet  Archive 

in  2014 

https://archive.org/details/revelationbyfire01hill 


S  E  E  j\[  O  N. 


1  Cor.  iii.  13:  "Every  man's  work  shall,  be  made  manifest:  for  the  day 

SHALL  declare  IT,  BECAUSE  IT  SHALL  BE  REVEALED  BY  FIRE;  AND  THE 
FIRE  SHALL  TRY  EVERY  ^IAN'S  WORK,  OF  WHAT  SORT  IT  IS." 

Through  means  of  material  representation,  we  are 
here  taught  the  sublimest  truth  in  regard  to  the  spi- 
ritual edifice  which  we  are  all  to  build,  —  the  Chris- 
tian character  and  condition.  In  the  easy  flow  of 
life,  when  the  world  goes  well  with  us,  and  yesterday 
was  as  is  to-day,  and  to-day  is  as  shall  be  to-morrow, 
we  have  no  test  by  which  to  measure  our  weakness 
or  our  strength,  or  to  determine  the  degree  of  inward 
beauty  or  deformity.  We  are  moulded  by  outward 
circumstances  ;  we  cast  ourselves  upon  the  current ; 
we  are  drifted  along ;  and  no  one  knows,  not  even 
ourselves,  what  manner  of  men  we  are,  nor  of  what 
stuff  we  are  made.  But  let  the  fiery  trial  come  ;  let 
there  be  a  change  in  our  outward  condition ;  let  the 
sudden,  overwhelming  calamity  fall ;  let  there  be 


4 


the  prostration  of  our  dearest  hopes,  and  the  onset  of 
fierce  temptation,  —  and  we  shall  soon  learn  of  what 
material  and  with  what  solidity  our  spiritual  house  is 
built,  —  how  it  is  mortised  and  braced  in  every  part. 
We  shall  learn  the  strength  of  our  principles,  the  firm- 
ness of  our  faith,  the  reality  of  our  trust, —  the  abso- 
lute worth  of  our  Christian  characters.  If  they  cannot 
stand  this  test,  no  outward  appearances,  no  show 
of  strength,  no  semblance  of  excellence,  no  habits  of 
external  conformity,  will  avail.  We  are  found  want- 
ing; and  our  painted,  gairish  structures,  which  we 
would  pass  off"  for  buildings  of  solid  marble,  granite, 
and  gold,  are  swept  away  by  the  blast ;  and  our  loss 
is  inexpressible  and  irremediable.  I  have  heard 
these  great  times  in  which  we  live  described  as 
awfully  perilous  to  the  character  of  this  people.  I 
have  heard  it  said,  that  no  scenes  on  earth  are  so  fear- 
fully demoralizing  as  those  of  the  camp  and  the 
battle-field  ;  that  this  war  is  plunging  the  nation  into 
a  gulf  of  moral  ruin,  in  comparison  with  which  all 
outward  ruin  is  inconsiderable.  I  have  heard  it  said, 
too,  that  it  is  not  immoral  in  its  tendency,  but  healthful, 
invigorating,  and  purifying,  curing  selfishness,  stay- 
ing self-indulgence,  and  calling  forth  manliness, 
sympathy,  and  tenderness.    But  I  think  it  may  be 


5 


shown  —  and  in  this  discourse  I  shall  undertake  to 
show  —  that  the  sterner  trials  of  life  do  not  so  much 
to  form  the  principle  as  to  reveal  and  deepen  the 
character ;  that  a  bad  man,  wanting  faith  and  affec- 
tion, is  made  worse  by  them;  while  a  good  man, 
whose  motives  are  lofty,  who  walks  in  purity  and  with 
guarded  conscience,  will,  through  these  very  visita- 
tions, break  down  and  sweep  away  all  false  supports, 
reveal  what  is  most  substantial  in  his  life,  belief,  and 
purpose,  and  be  made  the  better  for  them.  This  is 
my  doctrine. 

If  we  would  learn  how  great  crises  are  great  re- 
vealers  of  the  character,  we  may  find  very  striking 
illustrations  in  Christ's  life  and  conversation.  No- 
where in  the  world's  history  shall  we  obtain  more 
impressive  examples  of  the  truth,  that  the  day  of 
God's  visitation  dissipates  all  delusions  and  false  pre- 
tences, and  discloses  the  reality  of  a  people's  devotion. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  hour  when  he  was  walking 
in  Jewry,  and  addressing  the  nation  in  those  deep, 
thrilling,  persuasive  tones  in  which  he  knew  how  to 
speak :  Now  is  the  judgment  of  this  world."  He 
meant  to  say,  that  the  very  crisis  of  the  nation's  des- 
tiny had  now  arrived,  —  the  exact  moment  w^hen,  by 
the  proclamation  of  higher  truth  and  the  requirement 


6 


of  higher  duty,  the  strength  of  their  faith  and  the 
sincerity  of  their  professions  were  to  be  tested.  God 
had  once  more  come  in  the  might  of  his  majesty,  in 
the  storm  of  civil  revolution  and  the  commotion  of 
kingdoms,  and  in  more  exacting  demands  upon  the 
sincerity  of  their  allegiance  and  the  strength  of  their 
love.  His  own  Messenger  noAv  walked  the  earth,  and 
visited  men  in  their  lowly  habitations.  He  sat  upon 
the  hillsides  of  Judsea,  and  gave  utterance  to  those 
words  of  stern  rebuke  and  gentle  admonition  which 
none  could  hear  without  emotion.  He  stood  before 
them,  the  embodiment  of  the  Divinity,  in  the  midst 
of  the  formalities  and  vain  hypocrisies  of  the  temple, 
and  the  emblem  of  truth  in  presence  of  individual 
falseness  and  corruption  ;  "  and  the  thoughts  of  many 
hearts  "  were  now  "  revealed."  It  was  the  decisive 
hour  of  the  nations  trial:  and  so  he  proclaimed, 
"  Now  is  the  axe  lying  at  the  root  of  the  trees  ;  and 
every  tree  which  bringeth  not  forth  good  fruit  is  hewn 
down,  and  cast  into  the  fire."  Never  was  there  a 
period  of  more  solemn  moral  discrimination,  never 
a  clearer  or  more  impressive  voice  heard  on  these 
shores  of  time ;  nor  ever  had  a  people  more  distinctly 
proclaimed  their  feebleness,  falsehood,  and  utter  rot- 
tenness, nor  could  they  better   comprehend  their 


7 


coming  destinies.  The  fig-tree  —  planted  by  the  way- 
side, rocked  by  the  gentle  winds,  warmed  by  the 
sunbeams,  watered  by  the  showers  —  stood  with  its 
rounded  trunk  and  its  fair  show  of  leaves,  but  blasted 
and  accursed,  before  them  all,  because  barren  like 
themselves.  Moses  and  the  prophets  they  had  re- 
jected ;  the  Son  of  man  —  with  his  high  commission 
from  God,  his  acts  of  mercy,  and  his  air  of  irresistible 
dignity  and  tenderness  —  they  had  scorned,  and  were 
about  to  put  to  death  ;  and,  though  one  rose  from  the 
dead,  they  would  not  hear.  What  could  save  them 
from  their  doom  ]  They  went  on,  unheeding,  the  way 
of  their  ruin,  plunging  deeper  in  their  guilt,  drawing 
around  them  a  thicker  shade  of  gloom.  They  stood 
and  cried,  "  His  blood  be  upon  us  and  our  children ! " 
And  when  was  ever  doom  so  speedy,  and  ruin  so 
merciless  t  Their  house  was  left  unto  them  desolate,  ^ 
their  city  became  a  waste,  and  they  were  scattered  to 
the  four  winds  of  heaven. 

But,  in  the  order  of  Providence,  death  is  the  pre- 
cursor as  well  as  the  sequence  of  life.  Out  of  the  very 
crisis  which  brings  desolation  and  moral  ruin  springs 
that  higher  form  of  sphitual  excellence  which  is  the 
grand  explanation  of  the  lot  of  humanity.  Amid 
the  darkness  and  horrors  which  attended  the  cruci- 


8 


•fixion  of  the  Saviour,  and  revealed  tlie  utmost 
depravity  of  man,  was  brought  to  light  the  reality  of 
a  disinterested  goodness  such  as  the  world  had  never 
dreamed  of  before.  At  the  very  time  when  the 
temple  of  Jerusalem  was  become  a  heap  of  smoul- 
dering ruins,  and  the  streets  were  running  rivers  of 
blood,  and  unheard-of  crimes  were  perpetrated  among 
the  people,  there  was  springing  up  in  the  midst  the 
germ  of  a  new  community,  rich  in  self-sacrificing 
devotion  and  saintly  virtues.  In  the  embers  of  ex- 
hausted pride,  passion,  and  selfish  ambition,  were 
flickering  the  fires  of  a  new  spiritual  life,  just  begin- 
ning to  be  kindled,  —  fires  that  were  destined  to  burn 
in  ten  thousand  bosoms,  purify  the  world  of  its  sins, 
and  cure  it  of  its  brooding  miseries.  In  great  times, 
such  as  those  of  Christ's  manifestation,  wicked  men 
grow  more  wicked,  more  reckless,  savage,  and  inhu- 
man, through  the  very  intensity  of  their  sufi*erings  ; 
while,  through  the  same  instrumentality,  the  true- 
hearted  become  more  gentle,  tender,  and  afi'ectionate, 
and  the  spark  of  divinity  is  fanned  into  a  flame  of 
inextinguishable  love. 

So  in  the  history  of  the  ages  and  the  progress 
of  events.  Great  crises  have  ever  been  aflluent  in 
the  noblest  and  the  meanest  attributes  of  humanity. 


9 


The  earthquake,  that  heaves  the  mountains  and 
shakes  a  continent,  throws  up  at  the  same  time  mire 
and  dirt,  and  the  golden  and  the  silver  ore.  The 
hurricane,  that  sweeps  the  forest,  fells  to  the  earth 
the  old  rotten  trees  which  have  stood  proudly  up,  and 
overshadowed  the  young  and  thrifty  wood ;  while  the 
green  and  healthy  sapling  will  stand,  the  pride  of 
the  hills,  for  the  use  and  ornament  of  the  coming 
time.  So  when  nations  are  rent  by  civil  and  religious 
strifes,  and  a  new  era  has  come,  the  good  and  evil  of 
men  stand  out  in  boldest  relief.  Then  history  is 
made  ;  for  what  is  its  chief  material  but  the  story  of 
the  earth's  great  convulsions,  wdien  the  extremes 
of  human  nature,  the  most  violent  contrasts,  are 
brought  into  view  ?  In  quiet  times,  wdien  there  is  no 
mighty  stir  of  human  passion,  and  no  great  sacrifices 
are  demanded,  the  record  of  a  whole  generation  fills 
only  a  single  page  ;  but  the  memory  lingers  over 
scenes  of  violent  commotion,  and  the  account  runs 
on  into  volumes  :  for  we  then  have  to  tell  of  the  great 
struggle  of  the  human  faculty,  of  the  heart's  weak- 
ness and  strength,  of  the  lowest  depravities  and  the 
sublimest  virtues.  Look  at  the  English  and  French 
devolutions.  When  they  came  with  their  heart- 
stirring  and  appalling  events,  the  English  and  the 

2 


10 


-French  nations  passed  through  a  moral  judgment, 
decisive  Hke  that  which  shall  determine  the  world's 
final  destinies,  when  God  himself  shall  occupy  the 
seat  of  justice,  and  shall  separate  the  sheep  from 
the  goats.  In  those  awful  convulsions,  the  record- 
ing angel  swept  over,  and  the  moral  separation  was 
complete.  The  old  order  of  things,  the  usurpa- 
tions, impositions,  and  tyrannies  which  had  grown 
up  in  tranquil  times,  began  to  be  tested,  and,  found 
wanting,  to  be  cast  away  as  worse  than  useless ; 
while  the  worth  of  individual  freedom,  intelligence, 
and  virtue,  began  to  be  seen,  and  a  new  order  of 
things  to  come  in  its  place.  The  old  nobility,  who 
in  their  pride  and  insolence  had  presumed  on  their 
transmitted  privileges,  were  cast  down ;  and  new 
families,  who  had  won  their  distinction  by  their 
talents  and  devotion,  arose  in  their  place.  How 
many  of  the  names  familiar  in  the  times  of  St.  Louis 
and  the  Norman  Conquest,  —  names  often  repeated 
on  the  rolls  of  the  nation's  history,  and  which  men 
for  centuries  had  been  taught  to  revere,  —  proving 
unworthy  when  the  great  crisis  came,  disappeared 
from  the  page,  and  gave  place  to  other  names,  which 
were  mentioned,  because  they  who  bore  them,  com- 
prehending their  time,  were  found  worthy  of  remem- 


11 


brancc  !  So  was  it  in  the  times  of  our  civil  strife 
t\yo-tliirds  of  a  century  ago.  Though  brief,  they 
sifted  the  nation,  and  separated  the  unworthy  from 
the  Avorthy,  —  self-seekers,  lovers  of  place,  and  syco- 
phants at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  from  true  patriots 
and  noble  Christian  men.  They  dropped  and  made 
no  lonsjer  mention  of  the  Hutchinsons  and  the 
Olivers,  and  their  Board  of  pliant  Councillors,  but 
spoke  of  the  Adamses  and  Hancocks  and  Otises. 
Great  days  draw  deeply  the  line  of  discrimination. 
The  trial  comes,  and  he  that  was  filthy  will  be  seen 
to  be  filthy  still ;  but  he  that  was  true  and  noble,  dis- 
interested and  devoted,  will  shine  as  a  light  in  the 
firmament. 

Just  so  it  is,  and  just  so  it  will  prove,  in  our  own 
great  trial-hour.  A  nation  is  in  arms.  The  Xorth 
and  the  South  are  delus^inor  the  continent  with  each 
other's  blood.  The  social  fabric  rocks  to  and  fro.  A 
crisis  has  arrived,  in  which,  unless  it  be  shortened,  no 
fiesh  can  be  saved.  And  do  you  suppose  that  it  will 
come  and  go  without  revealing  the  characters  of  men, 
and  separating  the  chaff"  from  the  wheat  ?  In  God's 
great  ordering,  it  cannot  be.  The  miserable  politi- 
cian, who  has  no  service  and  no  thought  but  for 
himself,  must  now  retire,  and  all  his  plausibilities  and 


12 


nicely  adjusted  schemes  perish  amid  the  tremendous 
realities  which  occupy  men  ;  and  the  poor  military 
official,  who  claims  much  because  of  his  academic 
distinctions  or  his  rare  opportunities,  albeit  abused  by 
habits  of  self-indulgence,  now  convicted  of  incompe- 
tency, must  give  place  to  fresh  men,  —  the  gifted,  the 
enterprising,  and  devoted,— who  will  stand  with  bared 
breast  between  their  country  and  her  harm,  and  pour 
out  their  blood  like  rain,  if  the  sacrifice  may  but 
redeem  her  perilled  life.  Look  at  the  subject  on  a 
broad  scale  ;  trace  the  history  and  destiny  of  nations : 
and  is  it  not  perfectly  clear,  that  great  crises  are  the 
revealers  of  men ;  that  by  the  throes  of  the  State  are 
brought  to  light  the  weakness,  follies,  and  vices 
which  work  her  ruin,  and  the  resplendent  vir- 
tues which  are  a  wall  of  fire  round  about  her,  and  a 
glory  in  the  midst  of  her  ?  "  Every  man's  work  shall 
be  revealed  as  by  fire ;  and  the  fire  shall  try  every 
man's  work,  of  what  sort  it  is."  We  are  to-day  try- 
ing, as  they  have  never  been  tried  before,  the  reality 
and  depth  of  our  patriotism.  We  are  trying  the 
strength  of  the  Republic,  and  the  worth  of  the  insti- 
tutions with  which  God  has  blessed  us  and  our  fathers 
before  us.  Let  them  survive  the  shock  that  is  now 
upon  them,  and  they  will  stand  before  the  world  the 


13 


noblest  monument  of  human  wisdom,  and  the  richest 
gift  of  God's  benignant  providence. 

What  is  true  of  nations  and  communities  of  men 
is  also  true  of  individuals.  Great  trials  test  their 
inward  character,  and  bring  it  out  in  bold  relief. 
How  many  live  and  die  unappreciated  because  they 
have  had  no  opportunity  for  expression  !  How  many 
do  not  know  themselves,  their  strength  or  weakness, 
their  power  to  do  and  dare  and  endure,  because  they 
have  never  been  tried !  Men  and  women  of  heroic 
and  saintly  virtues,  compelled  to  walk  in  obscure 
paths,  obtain  no  memory  on  earth ;  but  let  the 
occasion  come,  and  they  will  stand  conspicuous 
among  the  honored  and  trusted.  It  is  said  that  the 
genius  of  the  great  Emperor  Napoleon  was  never 
more  signally  displayed  than  in  the  ready  discern- 
ment with  which  he  detected  ability  in  the  meanest 
guises,  and  the  skill  with  which  he  would  apply  it  to 
his  own  uses.  From  his  elevated  position  as  com- 
mander of  great  armies,  he  would  look  along  the 
lines,  and  from  the  very  ranks  select  the  general  of 
division  and  the  marshal  of  the  empire  ;  and  from 
the  awful  scenes  of  the  battle-field,  where  energy, 
courage,  and  constancy  are  made  conspicuous,  choose 
those  to  Avhom  he  would  intrust  the  most  difficult 


14 


enterprises,  and  with  whom  he  would  share  the  toils 
of  state.  So  great  occasions  are  imperial  in  their 
gift  of  insight.  They  reveal  even  to  the  transient  eye 
the  qualities  which  otherwise  had  remained  hidden 
for  ever.  Ordinarily,  men  take  their  places  side 
by  side,  clothed  in  like  garb,  and  with  like  form  and 
feature,  and  you  shall  not  distinguish  them ;  but  let 
the  occasion  come, —  some  disinterested  act  to  be 
done,  some  heavy  burthen  to  be  lifted,  some  fearful 
calamity  to  be  borne,  —  and  they  will  stand  revealed 
before  you,  as  widely  different  in  inward  resources, 
in  strength  of  character,  and  the  perfection  of  their 
graces,  as  if  they  belonged  to  different  species,  and 
had  been  trained  on  opposite  circles  of  the  globe. 
How  often  have  I  seen  men,  devoted  to  the  little 
cares  of  the  shop  or  the  field,  walking  apart  on  their 
own  path  and  responsibility,  calling  forth  no  remark, 
and  attracting  no  attention,  yet,  under  a  change  of  cir- 
cumstances, disclosing  mines  of  unsuspected  richness, 
awakening  admiration,  and  thrilling  with  sweet  sur- 
prises !  How  often  have  I  seen  women,  tenderly  and 
delicately  nurtured,  accustomed  to  ease  and  luxury 
and  unrestrained  indulgence,  yet  tried,  beset  with 
difficulty,  pressed  down  wdth  cares,  urged  on  by  a 
noble  aim,  putting  forth  a  courage,   energy,  and 


15 


perseverance  of  which  they  never  suspected  them- 
selves possessed  !  I  think  of  women  of  whom  I  have 
read,  —  refined,  gentle,  loving,  —  leaving  a  home  of 
luxury,  and  the  comforts  of  civilized  and  social  life, 
for  the  sake  of  the  Heathen  ;  of  women  like  Mrs. 
Judson,  —  the  East-India  missionary,  —  who  stood 
alone  unmoved  in  the  midst  of  a  savage  mob,  with  a 
woman's  instincts,  and,  with  more  than  woman's  valor, 
guarded  the  besieged  prison  of  her  husband,  and 
vindicated  his  honor,  winning  admiration  and  receiv- 
ing honors  from  the  British  army,  as  if  she  had  been 
a  queen.  I  think  of  women  whom  I  have  known, 
once  courted  and  flattered,  but,  through  altered  circum- 
stances, left  in  charge  of  a  large  family  of  children 
to  struggle  with  their  lot,  in  feeble  health  and  with 
straitened  means,  yet,  with  a  brave  heart  and  un- 
wavering trust,  undertaking  the  unequal  task,  perse- 
vering day  by  day,  year  by  year,  uncomplaining, 
undespairing,  serene  amid  the  troubled  waters, 
cheerful  in  the  darkest  hour,  rising  with  the  threat- 
ening billow,  triumphing  at  last.  And,  when  I  think 
of  such,  I  ask  not  why  troubles  are  sent;  but  I  thank 
God  for  the  mines  of  marvellous  excellence,  the 
inw^ard  strength,  beauty,  and  grace,  which  they 
reveal. 


16 


I  might  show,  from  every  condition  in  life,  how  out 
of  its  great  trials  flow  the  heroic  and  saintly  virtues. 
The  doctrine  finds  especial  illustration  in  those  awful 
scenes  of  carnage  which  are  changing  our  country 
into  one  huge  battle-field.  No  sorer  calamity  can 
visit  a  people  than  a  civil  war;  and  yet  I  might  go 
on,  and  gather,  from  the  history  of  the  campaign, 
incidents  to  show  that  there  are  no  such  revealers  of 
inward  power  as  are  found  in  the  midst  of  its  very 
horrors.  I  could  tell,  you  of  young  men  from  our 
cities,  used  only  to  the  refinements  of  a  highly 
cultivated  state  of  society,  w^elcoming  the  privations 
and  hardships  of  the  camp,  enduring  the  long  march, 
and  keeping  their  dreary  night-watch  without  a 
murmur ;  in  their  first  battle,  thinking,  like  young 
Shurtlefi",  not  of  themselves,  but  of  their  command ; 
or  faUing  on  a  bloody  field  like  Lowell,  and  borne 
away  by  merciless  foes,  yet  maintaining  such  angelic 
sweetness  in  their  sufi'erings  as  to  win  their  admira- 
tion ;  or  mortally  wounded  like  Putnam,  yet,  with  a 
chivalry  akin  to  that  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  rejecting 
the  profi'ered  attentions  of  the  surgeon,  and  refusing 
a  draught  of  cold  water  in  tenderness  towards  a  dying 
soldier  lying  by  their  side.  I  could  tell  you  of  rough, 
care-worn  men,  familiar  with  the  rudeness  of  the 


17 


camp  and  the  awful  scenes  of  the  battle,  and  yet 
gentle,  tender,  and  full  of  sympathy,  as  if  all  their 
lives  they  had  been  attendants,  in  the  hospitals,  of  the 
sick  and  wounded. 

But  I  leave  all  these,  and  tell  of  one  who  has  often 
met  with  us  here  on  these  pleasant  sabbath  mornings, 
and  whom  we  last  week  bore,  wrapped  in  his  coun- 
try's flag,  to  our  beautiful  cemetery.  I  speak  of  Mr. 
Hudson*  gratefully,  because  of  the  thirty  young 
men  of  this  parish,  who  have  been  enrolled  in  the 
service  of  the  Union,  he  is  the  first  that  has  fallen  in 
the  campaign.  Others  at  home,  younger  than  he, 
have  sunk,  the  victims  of  ordinary  disease  ;  but  none, 
until  now,  have  come  from  the  distant  field  of  warfare 
to  claim  a  place  at  the  side  of  then*  kindred.  I  speak 
of  him,  too,  the  more  freely,  because,  among  the 
seven  hundred  thousand  devoted  men  who  have  gone 
forth  for  the  defence  of  the  country,  none  have 


*  Mr.  William  Hudson  was  born  in  Boston  on  St.  Patrick's  Day,  March  17, 
1822.  In  childhood  he  was  removed  to  Lexington ;  and  there,  in  the  midst  of  the 
scenes  of  the  first  battle  of  the  Revolution,  its  associations  and  heart-stirring  me- 
mories, and  in  sight  of  its  monument,  he  spent  his  youth  and  early  manhood.  He 
came  to  Worcester  with  his  family  about  eight  years  ago,  and  was  a  partner  in  a 
respectable  shoe  manufactory  in  this  city.  He  enlisted  for  the  war  in  Company  H, 
Capt.  Moulton ;  and  was  much  respected  by  officers  and  men.  He  went  with  his 
regiment  into  active  service  in  North  Carolina,  and  never  returned  to  his  home 
again  but  for  his  burial. 

3 


18 


gone  with  more  of  disinterested  love,  with  more  of 
singleness  and  unselfish  devotion,  than  he.  An  only 
son,  a  parent's  happiness  bound  up  in  his,  engaged 
in  a  successful  business,  at  the  head  of  a  little  family, 
wife  and  children  as  dear  to  him  as  ours  are  to  any 
of  us,  he  might  have  claimed  exemption  from  mili- 
tary service  if  any  of  us  can,  and,  with  a  clear 
conscience,  have  made  no  response  to  his  country's 
call ;  and  we  who  saw  him,  day  by  day,  a  quiet, 
thoughtful  man,  pursuing  his  quiet,  thoughtful  ways, 
apart  from  the  popular  excitement,  would  have  said, 
"  He  surely  will  never  be  allured  from  the  peaceful 
pursuits  which  occupy  him  and  the  home  that  he 
loves.  He  hears  not  the  noise  of  the  spreading 
storm.  He  sees  not  the  shadow  of  the  coming  cala- 
mity. He  will  linger  long.  He  will  not  be  swift  to 
engage  in  great  and  perilous  enterprises."  How  lit- 
tle, my  friends,  do  we  comprehend  the  men  whom  we 
daily  meet,  until  some  signal  crisis  calls  them  out! 
I  had  not  conceived  of  the  fires  of  fervent  patriotism 
that  were  burning  in  his  bosom,  I  knew  not  how  pro- 
found were  his  convictions  of  duty,  how  mighty  was 
the  stir  of  his  bosom,  and  how  sincere  the  offering  of 
his  best  service,  until  I  saw  him  last  autumn  on  the 
field  of  encampment,  a  volunteer  for  the  war.  He 


19 


had  joined  the  Twenty-fifth  Regiment  of  Massachu- 
setts Volunteers  in  the  capacity  of  private,  ready  to 
do  the  duty  and  endure  the  hardships  of  a  private. 
I  well  remember  the  surprise  which  I  expressed,  and 
shall  not  forget  the  look  of  determination  with  which 
he  responded. 

Marching  with  his  regiment  to  the  seat  of  war,  he 
was  attached  to  the  command  of  Gen.  Burnside. 
Prompt,  active,  intelligent,  and  capable,  it  was  soon 
perceived  that  he  could  do  better  service  elsewhere 
than  in  the  ranks.  He  was  selected  as  one  of  the 
signal  corps  connected  with  the  Burnside  Expedition. 
In  the  sailing  of  that  expedition,  he  encountered  a 
more  than  full  share  of  its  perils  and  disasters. 
Placed  on  a  leaky  vessel,  and  driven  out  to  sea,  he 
was  tossed  about  in  the  Gulf  Stream  for  fourteen  days 
in  fearful  stress,  and  imminent  danger  of  foundering. 
But  spared,  and  once  more  permitted  to  join  the  army, 
he  was  present  in  all  the  stirring  scenes  of  Roanoke 
and  Newborn ;  and,  in  consequence  of  his  especial 
duties,  was  never  far  from  the  front  lines  and  the 
post  of  danger.  But,  wherever  he  was,  he  was  faith- 
ful to  the  one  vow  with  which  he  left  the  endearments 
of  home,  and  entered  on  his  untried  way :  that  was, 
to  serve  his  country  as  best  he  might  in  any  capacity, 


20 


without  fear  of  personal  loss,  or  hope  of  personal 
gain.  As  connected  with  the  army  signals,  I  learn 
that  his  services  were  particularly  valuable.  He  was 
observant,  exact,  laborious,  watchful  over  his  habits, 
faithful  in  the  minutest  duty,  and  altogether  trust- 
worthy. The  movements  of  the  army,  the  very 
success  of  the  campaign,  might  safely  rest  on  his 
fidelity. 

But  his  duties  exposed  him  to  the  rains  and  dews 
and  burning  heats  of  that  sickly  climate.  The  firm- 
est health,  the  most  guarded  watchfulness,  could  not 
prevent  the  access  of  disease  ;  for  the  malaria  hangs 
over  the  swamps,  and  the  night  air  is  pestilential, 
poisoning  the  very  fountains  of  life.  He  was  seized 
with  the  Southern  fever.  It  was  rioting  in  his  veins  : 
but,  always  hopeful,  he  still  worked  on,  until  his 
exhausted  strength  compelled  him  to  seek  the  shelter 
of  the  hospital,  and  the  constant  service  of  the 
physician ;  and  then  it  was  too  late.  The  seeds  of 
death  were  sown,  and  its  harvest  could  not  long  be 
delayed.  Friends  whom  you  and  I  know  were 
around  his  bed,  with  sleepless  watch  and  careful  and 
tender  nursing.  But  human  aid  could  not  now  avail, 
nor  the  prayers  of  many  save  him.  He  sunk  day  by 
day ;  though  there  were  seasons  of  apparent  reviving, 


21 


when  his  countenance  would  light  up  as  they  spoke 
of  his  speedy  recovery,  and  of  the  friends  whom  he 
would  meet  in  his  far  Northern  home.  But  it  was 
only  the  flicker  of  the  dying  lamp.  Hopes  were 
awakened  only  to  be  disappointed.  The  light 
gleamed  for  a  moment,  only  to  be  followed  by  a 
deeper  darkness.  Letters  came,  and  told  that  on 
Wednesday,  Aug.  6,  the  crisis  was  past,  and  he  would 
soon  be  well.  Letters  came  again,  and  told  that  on 
Thursday,  Aug.  7,  his  warfare  was  over,  and  he  had 
gone  to  his  rest,  —  having  lived  a  hero's  life,  and 
died  a  hero's  death,  as  undeniably  as  if  a  nation  had 
mourned  for  his  departure,  and  cities  and  villages 
had  united  to  deck  the  grave  where  he  lies. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  show  how  man's  work  is 
revealed  by  fire ;  how  great  and  trying  times  disclose 
his  character,  and  bring  to  the  light  virtues  and 
graces  which  else  had  never  been  known.  Terrible 
days  and  seasons  of  awful  calamity  strip  away  the 
veil  of  seeming  goodness,  and  bring  us  face  to  face 
with  sternest  realities.  Let  us  accept,  then,  these 
signal  days  which  God  has  chosen,  to  prove  the  sin- 
cerity of  our  aims  and  the  integrity  of  our  lives. 
They  are  days  which,  in  their  sudden  and  overwhelm- 
ning  vicissitudes  and  imperative  exactions,  try  us  as 


22 


by  fire.  And,  my  friends,  we  must  shrink  from,  we 
must  fear  them ;  we  must  be  appalled  by  the  awful 
events  which  they  bring,  just  as  we  are  unprepared 
by  moral  watchfulness  and  spiritual  strength  to  meet 
them.  If  we  venture  to  encounter  them  as  we  do  or- 
dinary days,  —  with  lightness  and  feebleness,  habits  of 
self-indulgence,  reckless  living,  and  moral  waste, — 
then,  be  sure,  these  scenes  of  civil  conflict  and  car- 
nage, from  the  visions  of  which  in  our  sleep  we 
awake  to  a  more  dreadful  reality,  will  only  serve  to 
deepen  the  gloom  and  bring  on  speedier  destruction. 
But  if,  in  a  spirit  of  profound  trust,  of  generous  sym- 
pathy and  hearty  devotion  to  the  interests  of  country, 
religion,  and  humanity,  we  will  put  on  the  whole 
armor  of  God, — helmet,  buckler,  and  crested  mail, — 
then  will  the  great  trial,  shedding  unconscious,  unac- 
knowledged influences,  scatter  blessings  on  its  way, 
give  depth  to  our  convictions,  purity  to  our  purposes, 
and  sincerity  to  our  prayers.  Then  will  the  awful 
visitation,  the  agony  and  strife  of  the  hour,  stir  up 
and  mould  anew  our  whole  inner  being,  and  the  day 
of  darkness  help  to  prepare  for  the  day  which  no 
night  shall  follow. 

God  be  Avith  you,  my  friends,  and  succor  you  in 
the  great  urgency  of  the  times !    God  soothe  your 


23 


anxieties  !  God  sanctify  your  bereavements,  and  out 
of  these  sore  troubles  bring  life  and  peace  and 
blessedness  eternal ! 

"  Mourn  ye  not  as  they 
Whose  spirit-light  is  quenched.     For  him  the  past 
Is  sealed.    He  may  not  fall ;  he  may  not  cast 

His  birthright  hope  away. 
All  is  not  here  of  your  beloved  and  blessed : 
Leave  ye  the  sleeper  with  his  God  to  rest." 


\ 


973.79      Z99M      v. 7  no.l^io 

364456 


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